


Wilderdreams

by RectifiedPear



Category: The Lion King (1994), The Lion King (2019)
Genre: Haunting, Nightmares, Oneshot, Pride Lands (The Lion King), Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RectifiedPear/pseuds/RectifiedPear
Summary: Can be read in relation to either film, but fits the animated version more.
Kudos: 8





	Wilderdreams

It was later when Mufasa began to haunt Scar's dreams he appeared, his feet had grown cloven, his head bore horns. Mufasa stood before the new king with big eyes lacking pupils. "You're dead." Scar said, but felt his heart was not in the words. Those great limbs rose, hooves raised up as Mufasa grunted, the whoosh of air exhaled upon Scar's mane startled him, he stilled, only to barely dodge the impact. "You're dead!" The edges of those two curved horns glimmered in the bright light cast off from his pupilless eyes. _This rugged being's muscles rippled beneath fur, he moved like a river's current. Mufasa bore down upon him, his expression impassive. He backed Scar away from him, and the rogue king went skittering on his paws, scared to touch the spectacle. He moved farther, towards the edge of Pride Rock, and away from his den. A thundering boom rippled around Scar, but the sky was clear and blue above him. He sought the sound with terrified eyes, it was nothing around him, he found. However, upon looking down, the entire reception was beneath the peak, moving in circles now. A stampede of giraffes, hippos, wildebeests, and more who had once beheld them, and later, Simba, were now moving in a circlet around the rock._

__

__

Like the marching hyena, they formed groups of their own, merging beside others. The zebra and antelope were large groups, only dwarfed by the wildebeests which made pounding sounds just like they had down in the gorge before. Nothing chased them, they moved with deliberation, endlessly forming a circle and repeating laps around and around again. None tired, but the sight made Scar dizzy to witness. Such a thing was maddening to behold.

Never in all the years of past kings had such happened.

"Stop it!" He bellowed at them, teeth bore in a snarl. "I am the king and you will cease - all of you will cease this right no-" _Thwack!_ went a hoof from his own brethren against his jaw. Scar stumbled, his claws scraped rock and brought forth ungodly pain as they bent at uncomfortable angles and threatened to be ripped from his very paws. His back legs found no purchase. Biting back the cry of fear, Scar looked upward. "You're not real!" He could not get free to lash upon the sibling he knew no longer breathed. "Begone!"

Slipping. He was slipping. He was doomed to fall down. Down. Down. Down. To fall and never rise, just like Mufasa had. Like he had condemned him to.

Scar gulped, and tried to reach for a horn upon that head of red fur. To grab upon his foe as his elder brother leaned towards him. His eyes were narrowed, expressionless and hollow.

"Brother." His voice grew quiet. "Please. Let's not be so hasty."

He slid down an inch, possibly two.

"Brother. Please."

He was beheld with empty eyes. No sign of the emotions he'd once mocked remained in that face. Like a ghost, Mufasa moved closer, and seemed to pass over him before being so close he should have smelled him. He couldn't. Truly a ghost, he bore no smell, yet he was physical. Still, he didn't speak. 

He threw back his head and bellowed out in a snarl, "Speak to me!"

Scar slipped. 

A chill of cold from the rocks beneath him not touched jarred him forth. The jerking violent cough shook his chest and made the stupid bird nearby squawk in fear. Scar rolled over and forced air into his lungs. It was a hard effort, they did not want to obey him yet. His throat felt raw like splinters of bone had scratched it, with the aftertaste of bile.

"G-good morning, sire?" Zazu spoke, wary of the absence of anyone to stop the lion should he lash out. "Sleep well?"

Green eyes, hard cut stared upon him. Oh how he hated the voice of his brother's majordomo. A blight on this world for birds to have ever gotten a job like that. They could never stay quiet, even on which way a worm crawled. Scar found his voice with some effort, "No, Zazu."

"Oh." He fussed with his wings, and made a show of being preoccupied.

Stretching, the pain in his back felt freshly jarred. It protested his movements and he made note to avoid following the hunts for awhile. His paws came away dry despite the sting of tears having prickled his eyes. Scar felt hungry and wounded, but could not find anything that would amend the dreams, nor the lack of sleep. 

"I never do."


End file.
